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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267352">No Half-Measures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra'>ziskandra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Red Hawke (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:22:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Anders's voice begins to rasp. “I'm afraid I must make one last request. Kill me.”</i>
</p><p>After the Chantry explosion, Hawke is faced with a difficult decision.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trick or Treat Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Half-Measures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheeana/gifts">Sheeana</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some dialogue borrowed from canon, some not. After all, Varric couldn't have heard everything.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hawke balances precariously on the precipice of war, the acrid scent of smoke and death pervading his nostrils during this calm in the storm. Underneath his robes, the handle of his knife is heavy in his hand.</p><p>He should be disgusted at all the senseless death and destruction. Yet, it is not rage that boils in his belly, but betrayal.  “I would have understood,” he tells Anders, and his lover still does not turn to look him in the eyes.</p><p><em>“</em>What if you wanted to help?” Anders asks. Like there ever was a question, like Hawke would have not followed Anders to the end of the world, until now.</p><p><em>“</em>I would have helped<em>,</em>” he says, so quietly that nobody else can hear them.</p><p>Even though he can’t see Anders’s face, Hawke knows he’s smiling. “I was afraid you might say that.” The tension weighs heavily in the air between them. “I couldn’t let you.”</p><p>Hawke’s fingers tighten, skin stretched taut against his knuckles. His heart hammers wildly in his chest. He needs to do something, anything, to alleviate this nervous uncertainty.</p><p>There is far too much at stake. Voice lower than he intends, he says. “You could have asked.”</p><p>Maker, he would have done, would do, anything for Anders if he only asked. Had done, without explanation, when requested.</p><p>Didn’t Anders understand? Hawke was already implicated. And if they are to go down this road, he would rather embrace his fate with open arms.</p><p>And yet, Anders continues to smile. “I know,” he says, and then, his voice begins to rasp. “I'm afraid I must make one last request. Kill me.”</p><p>Hawke feels like his fingernails are pressing into his palm. It takes a moment to process what Anders has actually said. The words that spill out of Hawke next are flat, distant. “Wait. What?”</p><p>“You heard me,” says Anders, and Hawke can see his lover’s body tremble atop the crate. “I’m asking.”</p><p>Swearing under his breath, Hawke knows Anders has manoeuvred him masterfully. Even after everything, Hawke would still do whatever Anders asked.  “Anders…” he says, slowly, cautiously.</p><p>If Anders hears Hawke’s warning, he does not heed it.  He bows his head. "I'm worth more dead than alive," he says. "I can be a symbol of hope. To the mages." </p><p>That's not all, though. Hawke knows there's something else, another reason, an elaboration. </p><p>Anders provides, and for once Hawke listens, truly listens. Shoulders sagging, Anders says, "At least then perhaps Justice would be free." </p><p>Justice. </p><p>That's what it comes down to at the end of the day, isn't it? In every sense of the word. It is not enough to simply consider their relationship with one another. As Hawke considers his choices he must also think of Kirkwall, of Thedas, of the greater good.</p><p>All the same, his mouth is dry when he asks his final question. "Is this truly what you want?"  </p><p>Anders nods. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you.  It was nice to be happy… for a while.”</p><p>There is no time for extended goodbyes, second guesses, or half-measures. Hawke draws the knife from beneath his robes.</p><p>“I love you,” he whispers, more for himself than for Anders before plunging the knife deep within his lover’s back, twisting, twisting until Anders loses his balances and falls to the ground.</p><p>The imagery is not lost on Hawke. But this is no occasion for regrets, for looking back.</p><p>There is a battle to be fought.</p><p>The templars are coming.</p>
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